Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2)

Miss me yet? See you soon.

Getting closer, bitch.

The longer you run, the worse it’ll be.

Can’t wait to get my hands on you.

The texts went on. Hundreds of them over the past three days. Fire heated his blood. He clenched his fist around the phone so hard, he worried the screen would crack. Who the fuck did this rich prick think he was? A million scenarios passed through Scott’s head in the span of five seconds.

Olivia hurt.

Olivia scared.

Olivia at this man’s mercy.

Olivia battered.

Olivia bruised.

“Fuck!”

His vision grew hazy as fury and the recognizable need for violence overtook his rational side. This motherfucker would die. By his hand. The club could help, but Scott would be the one to pull the trigger. And that would only happen after a nice, long… chat.

Fuck, yes, he liked that idea. His breathing quickened as the fantasy played out. Yanking fingernails, spilling blood, breaking kneecaps, shattering cheek bo—

“S-scott?”

Liv’s shaky voice cut through the fog but didn’t burn it away. He turned her way to find her seated naked in the center of the bed, knees drawn up and arms around her legs in a position of comfort. She looked so small, so worried, so scared.

Of him?

Christ. There it was—the shock he needed to keep him from flying into a blind rage. The thought of her being afraid sickened him. He’d rather Curly hogtied and tossed him in a trunk than have Olivia fear him.

“I want to kill him,” he said in a voice destroyed by whatever emotions she evoked in him. The feelings were so deep, complicated, and terrifying that he had no name for them.

Love? Maybe. Who the hell knew? Did love feel half wonderful and half nauseating?

“I know,” she said with a miserable half-smile. “But that’s one of the reasons I’ve been so hesitant to tell you. I don’t want you to take this on. I don’t want your c-club to take this on.”

The trembling lower lip did him in. “Baby, who are we if we don’t protect our family? If we don’t fight our family’s battles?”

“I’m not f—”

“You are,” he said as he strode toward the bed. After tossing the phone on the mattress, he climbed up. Olivia wasted no time, crawling into his lap and wrapping her arms around him. His heart fucking flipped.

“I’m so scared something will happen to one of you. I know it’s only been a little while, but you all mean so much to me.”

“Shh, baby, we’ve got this. We’ve got you.” He smoothed his hand up and down her back.

Her arms tightened, and wetness soaked his shoulder. Christ, was she crying? “It’d be better if I just leave. Go somewhere random. Maybe out of the country.”

Every cell in his body rejected that idea. “Fuck, no.”

“I won’t be able to live with myself if you get hurt because of me. Or if Curly is hurt, or Tracker. Any of you.”

“Baby, we’re tough as fuck. Do you think your pansy-ass, live-in-luxury, Armani-wearing fiancé has anything on a former Ranger, a man who spent over a decade in a max security prison, and the rest of those fuckers?”

She stayed quiet for a moment, then said, “Ex-fiancé.”

“That’s my girl.” He kissed her shoulder. “Trust me. Trust my club. I’ll keep you safe, Liv. And my club and I will eliminate this problem for you.” He didn’t expand upon that, but guys like this douche, Lance, only went away when they were sent away. Like down to hell.

“I do trust you, Scott. More than anyone.”

“I’m gonna need the whole story, babe. I need all the info. Then tomorrow, we need to bring it to Curly.”

She sighed. “I hate this.”

“I know, but it’s how we do things here. There’s no ‘I’ in motorcycle club.”

That had her laughing. “You’re making jokes. I thought I lost you for a few minutes there. But you’re making jokes.” She straightened out of his tight hug and looked him right in the eye. “Thank you.”

He fingered the ends of her hair. “I’m fucked-up, Liv. Real fucked-up. I don’t know if my head will ever get completely right, but I’m gonna work on it. I never want you to fear me or have to visit me behind bars again.”

Through her tears, red-rimmed eyes, and stuffy nose, her smile lit up the fucking room. “I lo… um, I could never be afraid of you, Scott.”

Christ, had she been about to say love? She loved him? What the fuck did he know about love? Not a goddamn thing. He’d have to worry about it later because learning the details of precisely what happened the night she left trumped everything right then.

“Tell me.”

She nodded, then launched into her story. They sat there, naked and wrapped up in each other for a long time as she scared the fucking life out of him with her words. There were tears, anger, shaking, determination, and regret. By the time she finished, he had his arms wound tight around her again to keep himself in check. If it weren’t for her soft, warm body keeping him on the bed, he’d light his ass out of there and up to Chicago. Her fiancé wouldn’t see tomorrow’s sunrise.